


Stone Cold

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-20
Updated: 2004-01-20
Packaged: 2018-11-20 07:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Skinner grieves.





	Stone Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Stone Cold

### Stone Cold

#### by Jo B

  


Title: Stone Cold  
Author: Jo B   
Keywords: M/Sk slash  
Rating: NC-17  
Summary: Skinner grieves.  
Disclaimer: The X-Files are the property Chris Carter, 1013 productions and Fox Broadcasting. Warning! This story contains romance between two men. Turn back now, if the subject matter offends you. Archive: Okay to archive just leave my name attached. Web site: http://slashingmulder.com/JoB/ Author's notes: This is my response to Beacon in the Night challenge. Challenge 5 - 'Til death do us part. 

Beta thanks to Joey and Xscribe! 

* * *

Stone Cold 

There it was: The old redbrick barn that marked the halfway point to Raleigh from D.C. Skinner had become as intimately familiar with the scenery between the two cities as he was with the back of his hand. He'd made the four-hour drive the last ten Sundays. He just couldn't let go. The thought of Mulder all alone in that cemetery so far from his friends filled him with sadness. Someday maybe he'd be able to get over the grief and move on with his life -- but he just wasn't ready yet. It felt like a part of him had been buried with Mulder. 

The nearer he got to North Carolina the greener the landscape appeared. Spring was the season of renewal and growth, when the land threw off the blanket of winter and new life bloomed. To Skinner it just felt stone cold. Life held very little meaning to him now. The void in his heart left by his lover's death was impossible to fill. 

The past six months had been the most painful in his life. Maybe because, after being separated for over a year, he and Mulder had just gotten back together. It had been after Mulder nearly died, ironically on a case down in North Carolina, when tobacco beetles had infected his lungs. 

It was then and there that Skinner had decided life was too short; that he wouldn't allow Krycek and his palm pilot to control his life any longer. The happiest he'd ever been was when he and Mulder had been lovers. The sex, which had been mind-blowing, hadn't been the best thing about their relationship. No, it had been the total package: their conversations, cooking together, watching television together, holding each other while they slept -- just sharing their lives together. 

He had carelessly thrown that all away after Krycek had infected him with the nanocytes. Then when he finally had Mulder back in his life, Krycek again interfered by convincing them to go to Bellefleur, Oregon to find the UFO that was hidden in the forest. It all went to hell from there and now Skinner spent his Sundays driving to the cemetery in Raleigh to bring flowers to his dead lover. 

After two more hours on the road, Skinner finally drove through the gates of the cemetery. He parked, picked up the bundle of pale yellow roses from the seat beside him, and walked down the path to Mulder's grave. 

The weather was perfect -- warm with a cloudless blue-sky. He stopped in front of the grave. Anyone looking would have noticed the weary slouch of his shoulders and the sadness in his eyes as he bent to remove the dead flowers from the container and replace them with the roses. 

As Skinner kneeled beside the grave, he reached out and touched the granite tombstone. "God, I miss you." 

"Where to begin," Skinner said as he sat back on his heels the deep blue overcoat fanned out behind him on the lush green lawn. "Dana should be having her baby within the next six weeks. I know you weren't aware that she was pregnant. She told me just after you were abducted. The one thing she wouldn't tell me is who the father is. Deep down, I'm hoping it's you." He paused and took a deep breath. "Don't get me wrong, Fox, I'd have been hurt if you had been sleeping with her after we'd gotten back together, but I wouldn't blame you for seeking comfort in her arms when we were separated. I want it to be your baby, to know that a piece you had survived would be comforting." 

A robin landed on the ground a hundred feet from where he knelt. The bird picked up a twig then flew up to an old oak tree where it was building a nest. Skinner watched it silently before looking down again. 

"I'm still paying the rent on your apartment. I need time to go through your possessions." Skinner had been surprised that Mulder still had him listed as the executor of his estate. "God, it's so hard. I tried last week but I just couldn't get rid of any of your stuff. Not even those godawful videos that you had willed to Frohike. I should have just packed them up and taken them over to him ... but I couldn't even do that. I'm sure you'd tell me that not letting go of your possessions was just a way of not letting go of you." 

A crow cawed overhead. Skinner looked up at it as a chill run down his spine. He looked back at the headstone. It still felt surreal. Three months and he still couldn't believe he'd lost him. 

"Dammit! Why did you have to die!" Skinner pulled out his handkerchief, removed his glasses, and wiped his eyes. "Why?" He closed his eyes until he got his emotions under control. 

After saying a silent prayer, Skinner climbed back to his feet. "I'll be back next weekend." 

* * *

Instead of stopping for lunch in Raleigh like he usually did after visiting the cemetery, Skinner drove the four hours straight back to his apartment in Crystal City. He wasn't in the mood to be around other people. 

When he finally walked into his apartment, Skinner hung up his overcoat and loosened his tie before heading across the room to the liquor cabinet and pouring himself a drink. He carried it over to his desk and played back the messages on his answering machine. 

Even on a Sunday he could not escape his job. He had calls from the ASAC out in Chicago, one call from Agent Doggett, and another from his assistant to remind him about his eight o'clock meeting tomorrow morning with D.D. Kersh. 

Skinner set the drink on the desk then sat behind it to return their calls. Fifty-five minutes later he took off his wirerims and pinched the bridge of his nose as a tension headache throbbed between his eyes. Sighing, Skinner picked up his drink and walked over to his patio door to look outside. He was distracted from his thoughts by a knock on his door. 

"Now what?" he grumbled as he set the drink down, walked over to the front door and peered through the peephole. Frohike, carrying a paper bag, stood shifting from foot to foot. 

Lifting his eyes heavenward in a "why me?" gesture, Skinner opened the door. 

"Here." Frohike shoved the paper bag into Skinner's hands then hurried into the apartment. "I need to use your john." 

While Frohike rushed into the small bathroom off the living room, Skinner shut the door. Shaking his head, he walked over and picked up his drink then sat on the soft brown leather sofa and looked into the bag. He frowned, set the tumbler on the coffee table, and removed a couple dozen 8 x 10 inch, black and white prints from the bag. 

He gasped when he saw they were all of Mulder. Two of them had to be from over ten years ago. Some were candid shots and others were of him smiling at the camera or giving it the finger -- or more likely to the person snapping his picture. Frohike must have taken them over the years. Skinner knew the little man had known Mulder a long time. 

Skinner was staring longingly at one of the photos when Frohike came back into the room. 

"I figured you'd want them to remember him by," the little man said as he walked over to the liquor cabinet to help himself to some Scotch. 

"Thanks, Melvin. You don't know how much getting these means to me." 

"Mulder was my best friend." Frohike sat on the chair beside the sofa. "These last six months have been hard to get through. I still can't believe he's gone." 

"Neither can I." Skinner set the photos on the coffee table and picked up his drink. "I keep expecting him to walk through my door with that Cheshire cat grin on his face." He sighed as he gazed into the amber liquid. "You know what? I don't believe that he's really dead. If he were, I think I'd feel it in my soul. I know you're probably thinking I'm nuts since I was the one who found his body...." 

"I don't think you're nuts...." 

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them until Frohike broke it. 

"Tell me about the first time the two of you got together," he said. "I remember how happy Mulder was about four years ago, it was as if he had won the lottery." 

"It was after he returned from Russia." Skinner smiled. "I'd been fighting my attraction to him for years, but seeing him walk into that Senate hearing with his head held high put the final crack in my armor. God, you should have seen him, looking so fucking cocky." 

Frohike leaned forward. "So how did you approach him?" 

"I went over to his apartment to check on how he was doing." Skinner smirked. "And no, I didn't go to express my undying love for him. But at some point, we both ended up on the floor. I'm not sure who jumped who first." 

"Does it matter?" 

Skinner shook his head. "No. We'd been attracted to each other for such a long time. What we found together was so good. I wish I hadn't thrown it all away...." 

"Mulder understood. He knew you were being blackmailed by Krycek." 

"He told you that?" 

"Hey, my man Mulder told me everything. We were best friends." 

Skinner stood and walked over to the liquor cabinet. He grabbed the bottle of Scotch, carried it over to Frohike and freshened his drink before filling his own glass. He set the bottle on the coffee table in easy reach of both of them. 

"How did you meet him?" Skinner asked as he sank back down on the sofa. 

"I met him at a computers and electronic show in Baltimore. Byers and I were under the impression that he was the psycho ex-boyfriend of this hot chick Byers was drooling over. It turned out she was spinning us a tale. Mulder was looking for her concerning the murders of four people at White Stone Army Base. Susanne turned out to be our introduction into government conspiracies. She didn't kill those people and we all found out just how dangerous some elements in our government were." Frohike sighed. "It was the start of several beautiful friendships." He took a sip of his drink and looked at Skinner. "He'd want you to get on with your life." 

"I will someday, when I'm ready. I just can't right now..." 

Frohike nodded. "I understand. This hasn't been easy for you, losing him and not being able to openly grieve because you both kept your love affair a secret even from Agent Scully." 

Skinner frowned. "Scully couldn't understand why Fox made me the executor of his estate. I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't do that to her. She loved Mulder and might be pregnant with his child. I didn't want to ruin the image she has of him." 

"I'm surprised she never suspected." 

"If Mulder hadn't told you would you have suspected?" 

Frohike shrugged. "Mulder didn't tell me -- I guessed." 

They sat for a couple of hours talking and reminiscing. Frohike looked at his watch and tossed back the remainder of his drink. "I better get back. Byers wanted to put the next issue of the Magic Bullet to bed tonight." 

Skinner stood and followed him to the door. "Thanks for the photos." 

"No problemo." Frohike paused in the doorway then turned and gave Skinner a quick hug. "I'll see you around." 

After Frohike left, Skinner carried the empty glasses into the kitchen and set them in the sink. It had felt good to talk candidly about Mulder, but now he was alone again. He shut off the lights and headed upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. Pausing in his bedroom doorway, Skinner stared at his four-poster bed and recalled the times he spent there making love to Mulder. He sighed sadly before heading over to his closet. He hung up his clothes and threw his socks and underwear into the hamper then walked into the bathroom. 

The hot shower proved little help in soothing his bone deep weariness. Skinner turned off the water and stepped out of the tub onto a bath mat. He grabbed a towel off the rack and dried himself before pulling on a pair of navy blue, cotton, pajama bottoms. After he brushed his teeth and turned off the bathroom lights he walked back into the bedroom. He paused to look at the photo of Mulder and himself that he had sitting on the nightstand before crawling under the covers. He didn't turn on the television to watch the late night news, like he usually did. Instead he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes willing himself to fall asleep. Skinner spent the next hour tossing and turning. 

Finally giving up, he rolled on his back and thought about the first time he and Mulder made love. Not the mad humping on the hardwood floor of Mulder's apartment, but when they first had anal intercourse. It had been months after they had started seeing each other. Their love affair had been passionate but at the same time had its difficulties. One of those difficulties was when he thought Mulder had committed suicide. Then Scully had collapsed as her cancer came close to claiming her life. 

When Mulder had showed up at the hospital perfectly fine, Skinner could have strangled him and at the same time hugged the hell out of him. It had been a ruse on Mulder's part to gain assess to the DoD in an attempt to find a cure for Scully's cancer. It worked, and when Scully was on her way to a miraculous recovery, Skinner had taken Mulder home with him, where they made love to each other slowly and tenderly. Mulder had spread his thighs and welcomed Skinner into his body. It was the first time during their rocky relationship that Mulder had shown Skinner that amount of trust. 

Skinner would never forget their first time: the hot tightness around his shaft as he pushed inside Mulder's body; the heaviness of his lover's long legs on his shoulders, and the look of unbridled love in those hazel eyes. 

The memories made Skinner hard; he reached into his pajama bottoms and wrapped his fingers around his thick erection. He used precum to slick his shaft as he jerked off to thoughts of Mulder, his fingers moved faster along his shaft until he came. Then he ignored the dampness, rolled onto his side, and hugged a pillow as he cried out his grief. What he wouldn't give for one more minute with Mulder. 

* * *

The end.   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Jo B


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